A Twist of The Blade
by Seffiron
Summary: It wasn't as if she had been staring at him from the couch for the past 10 minutes, holding her breath every time he brought the knife down in a satisfying "chop".
1. Chapter 1 - Invade My Life

A twist of the blade, a shifting of the wrist, a carefully thought-out and well-performed deliverance between his fingers that made the object seem weightless and completely controlled.  
A silent slash that seemed to shout out into the air as her eyes followed it into the ingredient at hand, the blade barely grazing the cutting board as it tore through the tomato.

It was glistening when it emerged once again, it had been for a while – soaked to the hilt from its invasion, dripping before it once again cut down into the fruit – the forbidden fruit.  
Barbara's breath hitched at that, and she tried to turn her gaze towards the TV once again.

Her efforts were fruitless.

It wasn't as if she had been staring at him from the couch for the past 10 minutes, holding her breath every time he brought the knife down in a satisfying _"chop"_.

It wasn't as if once again she had been sent in to relieve one or two colleagues because the hospital had been overrun with patients, and therefor had had a long and exhausting shift that started at 10 am this morning.  
And it wasn't as if she had come home at 4 in the morning, careful not to disturb the sleeping figure on her couch, but had wound up making the floorboards creak just right, and she had found out the figure wasn't as much sleeping as he was just wary of his surroundings – ready to attack whoever thought they could out-smart him.

Yet right now it was as if he was the only thing worthy of her attention in the room, damned be the TV she never did care to pay attention to anyway.

He scooped the slices of tomato onto a piece of toasted bread, which already had the ham and cheese on it, alongside some fresh lettuce and mayonnaise.  
He spun the knife between 2, no, 3 fingers?  
Barbara's eyes tried to follow, but just as it had been with Jim, she never quite could figure out how that trick worked – thought it worked perfectly fine for her dazed mind, which was sleep-deprived, and her empty stomach, which had had cafeteria dinner some odd hours ago – she bit her lower lip, not entirely registering that she had done it.

She had insisted he go back to, er, bed – even if it consisted of her worn-out couch that had seen better days – but _he_ had insisted he stayed awake till she was tucked in herself - Some odd modesty concerning sleeping in a friend's house.

Because that's what they were, friends, right? She thought back to the fight at the museum, the fear she had felt, and the overwhelming feeling of safety she didn't know she had longed for when his arms folded around her.  
She had called him partner that night. She had liked calling him that.

A discussion that never really grew in volume had ensued, and at some point the whole thing had ended with him preparing some sandwiches for both of them in his bath robe, after she had almost shouted at him about how stressed, tired and starved she was.  
And Barbara Lake wasn't one to complain - She never did, but after months of having Walter Strickler living under her roof, as she had insisted he did until they figured out the whole cradle-stone thing, and watching her city slowly start to recover from the battle his people had brought with them.

She was tired. 

She was tired of the extra shifts, and of the hospital being under staffed because of the severity of injuries and numbers of them.  
And she was tired of constantly being worried about Jim.

Walter had asked what she wanted for a snack, and she had told him of Jim's sandwiches. Which was a mistake, as she had had to hurriedly catch a few drops of tears on her cheeks before Walt had seen them.  
It had been 3 months since Jim's departure. 3 whole months of him dropping texts in the middle of both night and day, calling on odd hours and ensuring he was fine – he even sent pictures.  
3 months of nonstop turmoil of her heart, and she cried happily almost every time a new sign of life popped up from her baby boy.

She heard the sound of a _"shffff!"_ cutting through her inner reverie, a reverie that had been created out of the thought about her baby being further away from her than he had ever been before, and the sight of the man carrying two plates of sandwiches towards her.

He had deposited the knife into its holder on the kitchen counter, and Barbara had felt a little disappointed.

"If you wanted a midnight snack you could've just said so – no need to excuse my bad eating habits to get up and make yourself a sandwich." – she had meant it as a quip, to break the tension.

He chuckled as he set down the plates on the coffee table, and sat down next to her on his makeshift bed.  
He had folded up the duvet she had given him, sat it aside on the far end of the couch and placed his pillow on top of it. The only thing giving his sleeping space away was the blanket she had spread out on the couch to make it more comfortable.  
He had insisted she didn't, she had done so anyway, and it had been spread out every night ever since when he made his bed.

"Barbara my dear, by this point you must know I would rather have tea as a midnight snack than anything else. And that I wouldn't take anything from your kitchen without asking first." He gave her a mischievous, yet annoyingly flattering smile – he had meant it as a quip.

Walter would take stuff without asking, but not without going shopping for replacements afterwards.

It was like having Jim home, but much older and with different preferences.  
The cupboards had additional cereal brands, other spices and boxes of, non-surprisingly, more exotic tea than Barbara had ever seen.  
She had thought of Walter as a man who liked one brand, but found he experimented a lot with the flavors he'd subject himself to when it came to tea.  
She suspected that drinking the same kind would get dull after a few centuries.

Over the span of these 3 months she had grown content in how her house had changed, especially her living room. It smelled like him and carried more of his personal belongings each week. She couldn't help but feel a faint flutter in her stomach when she realized he was slowly but surely moving into her home, and into her life.

He had of course asked her several times if this was okay, if he could bring this and this from his apartment and sometimes his office, as he needed it for official _"troll-business"_ as she had dubbed his other life, and in the beginning she had been wary of what sort of items he had needed.  
But it had turned out to be a few boxes the first week, filled to the brim with ancient books, scrolls and talismans.

The next week it had been some eerie masks and crystals… and some daggers of varying length, which he had stowed away in a bag – out of sight, out of mind she supposed, and he had ensured her, he didn't mean to alarm her – apparently they were heirlooms.

She had allowed him to stow some of it away in the basement.  
With the tunnel that still connected her house to Trollmarket – which she had remembered suddenly after getting back from work one night and going down to check on the boiler because the shower was acting up again– it was natural for him to build a sort of home-office down there.  
The tunnel had been blocked out with some shelves, and other varying items Jim had obviously pushed up against it when she had had her memory removed, but was now open, and Walter had used it from time to time to move back and forth between her house and the market.

What he was doing in Trollmarket, had hadn't told her yet.

Once again her inner train of thought was cut short by the unmistakable shift of a blade.

A regular knife, and one he had brought with him to cut the sandwich. A fork accompanied it, but he seemed to have a habit of picking up the knife first to weight it in his hand – she wondered if he did it on purpose or if it was actually a force of habit.

She watched the knife slide from finger to finger, and even though it was spinning gracefully fast with an elegant curve to it, her eyes caught it all in slow motion, which also seemed to add to the highlight of the blades polished surface as it caught the light from the lamp above the table.

Her eyes drooped a little, her mouth parted slightly and she felt as though she was sitting far too close for comfort, yet the warmth of his body dragged her nearer.

"Truth be told, I wasn't actually hungry. I, er, enjoyed making you a sandwich and seemed to get carried away and I wound up making two! By all means, if you want the other one too you can have it, or I can put it in the fridge for you, for later?"

 _shfff, shfff, shff_ – the blade continued to spin and by this point she was sure he didn't do it on purpose, in fact, she was convinced he didn't even know the knife was in his hand.  
He had asked her a question, hadn't he? Why did those sandwiches seem so incredibly dull right now?  
He had also only brought one set of cutlery with him; she would have to take the knife from him if she wanted to cut the sandwich. But she only ever ate sandwiches with her hands.

He had stayed with her. He had invaded her life in the most wonderful of ways, brought back to her from a distant dream, one in which she had forgotten all about James, all about how he didn't want her or her son, his son.

He had comforted her whenever she needed it, he had agreed to find a solution to the whole cradle-stone dilemma, even when it wasn't his responsibility, or hers for that matter, they had just sort of accepted it – together.

He had asked for nothing but her patience, for her understanding of the situation he found himself in, for her acceptance that he would tell her everything she wanted to know as soon as he knew how to tell her.

A twinge of a memory had hit her then – one of him walking down her porch with a sweet expression on his face. The lingering taste of him on her lips, the light pressure of his palm on her hip, his fingers brushing gently against the small of her back. 

Then another memory zapped at her consciousness - how he had shattered her entire image of their relationship with lies. Broken her trust and endangered her son.  
And how he had mended it afterwards.

How he had stayed away to protect her, because he fully believed Jim had told her about the vast world beneath their feet.  
How she'd wished she knew that his only reason for staying away for so long, was because he cared for her.

"Barbara, are you quite alright? Your eyes are a little glassy and unfocused – are you feeling okay?"

 __The blade stopped, and she followed it's descend towards the table to be put neatly beside the fork – she bet he didn't do that on purpose either.

She felt a light pressure on her cheek, and then on her forehead. She blinked and turned her gaze to meet the jungle-green eyes of her companion.  
She was sleep-deprived, she was hungry and her mind was dazed, and yet she found that the only thing she wanted to do was stare into those green eyes forever.

She had called him partner that night. She had liked it.


	2. Chapter 2 - Ease My Mind

In the span of the three months he had been living with her, they had had scarce interactions that involved physical contact with a deeper meaning to it.  
A pat on the back or a hand on the shoulder was common ground, especially when wishing each other a good day.  
It was the more the fleeting moments of a hand lingering too long atop another, or how he'd sometimes touch her elbow to reassure her, or a hug that lasted maybe a few seconds too long, that gave Barbara the courage to lean towards Walter, pushing her face into his hands and sighing contently.

The hand on her forehead shifted downwards to her other cheek, and the hand on her cheek went down too and caught just below her chin, the ghost of it lingering just out of reach from her skin.

"Bar-" she cut him short be lifting her own two hands and catching the one beneath her chin, bringing it to her mouth and gently brushing her lips over it.  
She closed her eyes and heard him swallow.

His hand felt calloused between hers, and she placed a gentle kiss on the knuckles, opening her eyes to look up at him.  
The cradle-stone had a magical barrier around it that made it so the babies inside were still frozen in time, as they had been in the Darklands. Therefor, as long as they were still in there, it was as if they had never left the Darklands, and Walter had the convenience of keeping his glamoured human form.

He had assured her he wasn't keeping the babies locked inside the stone for his own benefit, but simply because he didn't know what would happen if he let them out.  
Would those that had lived far beyond a human lifespan turn to dust?  
He hadn't wanted to risk it, and thus spent most of his time reading up on the magic the stone inherited.

This meant that the man before her was human, and not a troll. Either way she found the expression on his face endearing. And she found that she didn't mind what he looked like either way, too.

"Thank you for staying Walt, for being here… with me. It means a lot that I don't have to be alone."

She had never wanted to admit it, but being alone scared her. She had had Jim to worry about before, James before that to keep her company, and he family before that. She had never truly been alone, and company was something she valued. She liked people, and she liked helping people – maybe that was one of the reasons she chose the profession she did.

"Of course Barbara – whatever you need." – he shot her a gentle smile, the expression shifting to something more calm and collected, yet still uncertain.

He had never inquired about their relationship, and what they were to each other now. He was living with her, and while it had started out as a job, it was more convenient to keep the stone in one place, it had grown into something more.

Something lay secret between them – between those hands and hugs, and she felt a fueling of something warm in her chest at the realization.  
It had been so long since she'd let anyone close, 10 years in fact, and she felt like she was finally ready to let someone in again. She had been ready since their first time drinking tea together at the café.

She turned her body completely towards him, angled her legs so that they didn't hit the coffee table in the progress, and scooted his palm open with her fingers.  
For a second she thought he wasn't going to do anything, and then his fingers locked with hers, and he drew out a sigh, getting closer himself as he too turned his body towards hers.

He looked her in the eyes and his own shone brilliantly in the dim light of her living room lamp, the world silent around them as the night progressed on without her even noticing.  
Time was a concept far beyond her conception, and therefor it felt like an eternity had passed before he slowly moved their joined hands down between the space between them, occupying it's vast emptiness.  
She drew closer as he did, tilted her head upwards as he tilted his down and their noses brushed together before he shot her a questioning look.  
 _Are you really sure?  
_

It happened before she'd even noticed how she'd crossed the last few inches between them, and as if blinking into existence again she noticed that her lips were now brushing over his.

 _A shhff sound, a twirl of metal and those completely in control hands._

She sighed into the kiss, unlocked her hand from his, which she immediately brought up to place on his shoulder, together with her other hand that landed on his other shoulder.

She felt him move, and within a second his fingers were on her shoulders too.  
The kiss was gentle and somewhat longing, and reminded her that they had done this before, and that she could have more if she wanted.

She shifted and he did so too, their lips locking more furiously together as they moved in tandem and she somehow ended up in his lap, her legs on either side of his hips, and him seated against the backrest.  
She hovered above him, her hands having found his neck and hairline, which they were scraping against and up into his hair, and she heard him make an approving sound in the back of his throat.  
She felt his hands find her hips, gently caressing her and gripping her there, and she became aware of how much she was still in her work clothes, and how much she wanted to be out of them.  
She tugged his lower lip between her teeth, feeling brave, and she could swear he moaned at that. She hadn't lost her touch, she thought happily to herself, and with that thought she gently opened her mouth a little wider and prodded her tongue against his lips; asking for entrance.

She was afraid he was going to end it there. Their previous kiss at her porch that night had been sweet and brief. A prolonged peck on the lips with a bit of sighing and looking dreamily into each other's eyes, and he was off.  
This was not a porch-kissed bathed in the light of her porch-light, and he opened his mouth and let her inside.  
Her tongue grazed over his teeth, and a faint thought of fangs and tusks shot into her subconsciousness, and she moaned.  
This clearly encouraged him as his own tongue shot out to meet hers, and soon they were tangling with each other as their heads bend ever which way to deepen the kiss.

 _A chopping sound, a twist of a blade, deft fingers moving with such precision she felt her breath hitch._

She came up for air; her breathing labored and locked eyes with him, her hands still in his now ruffled hair. His pupils were blown and his mouth hung open, his breathing a little ragged and she thought he looked absolutely gorgeous.

"I – I didn't think that you, were, ah, ready for this… yet?" he rasped.

She offered a sweet yet cheeky smile and kissed his nose – her hands still caressing his scalp through his hair, and he let out a breath he had seemed to have held.

"What made you think that?" she finally said.

He shrugged his shoulders and his eyes wavered for a second to stare at something behind her, but then they came back to hers again.

"I didn't want to ask, or presume anything, and since you didn't inquire about the state of our relationship either, I figured you weren't ready."

He said that last bit with a bit of sadness hinged in his tone. Clearly he felt strongly for her, as she had for him before everything had gone down in flames, but she found that after his redeeming actions in the battle, him helping Jim and him being _here_ with _her_ , she found that she had forgiven him a long time ago.

She smiled at his endearing way of putting things, and her heart leapt at how he honored her privacy and opinion more than anything.  
Her fingers had been drawing small circles at the start of his hairline, but now she dug both of her hands into his hair once more and dragged her fingernails up and down his scalp and she placed a kiss at the corner of his mouth.  
He bit down a gasp, she kissed his jaw, he breathed out and she kissed his neck right below his ear, he made a growling noise in the back of his throat and she kissed that very throat.

The sandwiches from earlier were long forgotten, and Barbara found herself hungry for something else.  
It had been a long time since she'd done anything like this, but it was right about the only thing she really thought she needed right now – she wanted it.  
It was a chance to forget the world around her, and simply exist in this space with him without anyone counting on her, except for him. And she wanted him to know that she needed him, and that she appreciated him and what he had done for her.  
But most importantly - she wanted _him_.

Her hair had been up as always when she was a work, and she moved her hands from his hair to her own.

 _A cutting, slicing and dicing through thin air – his movements perfect and precise._

She loosened the band in her bun and her wild fiery locks pooled down upon her shoulders.  
His eyes flashed dangerously.

which was so much more effective because of the fact that they did actually flash – a dangerous, wild, thundering yellow with a red tinge to it.

She gasped and caught his lips in hers once more, passionate, desperate, letting out little mewls and moans as he tugged on her lips, and brought both his hands from her hips to her neck, pulling her forward towards him, suffocating her with his very being.

She fisted the material of his robe, which was a dark blue and very plush. This made her giggle a little, thinking that such a prober and poise man would pick anything but a comfy robe to sleep in.  
Though he hadn't slept in it, had he? She vaguely remembered him in various night wear – shirts and boxers, occasionally something that matched, a pajama of sorts - but he always put on this robe if she caught him sleeping in just the boxers.

Perfect.

She started to pull at the corners of the robe, and her suspicions were confirmed as smooth and warm skin came in contact with her hands. She continued to push the robe up and over his shoulders, and then it caught at his arms.  
He moved his hands, which had been positioned at either side of her neck, ever so slightly just following her movements, and slid the robe off both of them.  
She then felt those hands at the hem of her blouse, carefully tugging the material upwards, and she lifted her arms in approval and he slid the garment off of her.

She felt him freeze for a second, seemingly haven forgotten how to breathe as they pulled apart from the kiss that had ensured their progress of undressing one another.

There she was – in his lap in her bra and slacks – and there he was, with his dark bathing robe pooling at his hips and a rising bare chest that seemed to draw her in.

"Are you okay?" she breathed in a raspy voice.

He stared at her, admired her, and as he wetted his lips with his tongue his eyes caught hers.

"You are so incredibly beautiful – Barbara, I can't even believe how lucky I am."

 _Shkkk! The knife landed perfect in its target, as it was thrown from across the room with such fury._

She lowered herself towards him, her hands on his shoulders, his on her hips, and then she bit down at his neck – he groaned - nibbling at the flesh and kissed it passionately.

"I want you Walt. I have for a while."


	3. Chapter 3 - Cleanse My Soul

It hadn't taken him long to act a soon as her words had registered. She could tell he was hesitant at first though – simply dragging his fingers up her sides, gently caressing her ribs and the outside of her bra.  
But as soon as she had started administering small kisses up his throat, on his jaw and on his collarbone, he had grasped her through the material.  
He was gentle, simply massaging the sides of her, and while Barbara had gasped at the sensation, she needed much more than that.

"Take it off me Walt – please." She whispered in his ear.

He reached around her and found the clasp. He fumbled with it for a little bit, but even though she was clearly distracting him, he freed the straps from their locks and slid the bra off of her shoulders and tossed it aside.

"Gorgeous." He sighed as he turned his head just before she kissed his cheek and caught her lips in his.  
The kiss wasn't rushed, but merely languid and slow - why, it was maddening.

Maddening as he cupped both her breasts in his hands, rolling them in his palms and dragging his thumbs over her sensitive nipples.  
She gasped and arched her back – feeling a pleasant zing of electricity go down her spine.  
He smiled into the kiss, obviously pleased with himself, and a specifically rough flick of his thumb against her made her bite his lower lip in frustration.

That made him growl - Oh.

He let go of her mouth as his hands let go of her breast, and before she could do anything he was pulling down her slacks from either side of her hips, and his mouth found her left breast.  
She whimpered his name and dug her fingernails into his shoulders as her slacks were dragged down to the middle of her thighs, and her breast was being thoroughly stimulated by his tongue.

She tried moving her legs to get the slacks off, but all she managed was to get them down just above her knees, and eventually get stuck there – but she didn't want to get off him, didn't want to leave him, so she ignored them.  
He groaned and exhaled on her, which made her gasp, and then he switched to her other breast where he took her nipple between his teeth and rolled it.

There was pain, and there was pleasure and Barbara didn't know what turned her on more; the fact he could easily sprout fangs and rupture her skin, or the fact that he didn't do so.

His head moved upwards and Barbara gave a sad whimper, but soon his mouth found her neck, where he copied her earlier ministrations, and she found that that was just as maddening.  
She grinded her hips into his lap, and he made an inhuman sound like a snarl, and Barbara became very aware of her wet she'd gotten. It felt like an ache – something sweet yet empty inside her, and she knew she needed him to fill out the emptiness and drink from the sweetness – God, she wanted him to feel good too.

Her emptiness sung out to her as she felt his left hand go down her stomach as his right steadied her from her right hip. He looked into her eyes, a question in his own, and she nodded quickly, so touched that he still felt like he had to ask before moving forwards.

His fingers traced just outside of her panties, and while they were silky black in color, she wished she'd worn something with lace – just for tonight.  
He didn't seem to mind what she was wearing as his hand breached the hem and his palm slid flat against her sex.  
Her breath hitched, he dragged his palm down and up her, she let out a gasp, he crooked his fingers to slide them just outside her folds.

"Come on Walter, quit teasing!" she moaned.  
She hadn't thought he was the teasing kind, being a gentleman like he was, but she also found that she didn't mind.

"So impatient." He drawled.  
Though his own body betrayed him. She could feel him beneath her through the robe and she wanted to make a joke about the hardness of a rock. She figured she'd make it later.

She writhed a bit, but didn't ground down onto his fingers, easy as it would be, but she wanted to him to -  
He plunged a finger inside her, up to the hilt and Barbara let out groan.  
"Yes! Ah, right there Walt, don't stop!"

He nodded appreciatively and started to lick her neck, kissing up the wet stripe he left behind and bit at her job to finish the job.  
This time she did ground down, and he added a second finger as she caught his mouth with her own, not even waiting for him to register anything before she plunged her tongue into his mouth.

He angled his hand, and as he added a third finger inside her, his thumb grazed over clitoris, making her shout out into his mouth as her tongue twisted with his - and that was their pace.  
Him easing his fingers in and out of her, grinding his thumb on her clit, and her moving slightly up and down as she rode his fingers.

She felt a little shameful – was she too eager? He seemed to want this too if his nether regions were anything to tell from, and the way his brow drew together as she moaned once again, indicated that he thoroughly enjoyed listening to her whimpers.

Barbara felt herself coil, felt her stomach tighten and gasped against his mouth, breathed against his jaw and eventually pushed her head into the space between his neck and shoulder as she whimpered – her legs too tired to move herself up and down at this point, and yet she felt him quicken his pace, his fingers speeding up.  
Was he trying to get her to?  
The question seemed silly - of course he was, and there she went.  
The electricity built, her breathing labored and her spine arched as she came apart around his fingers.  
She saw white, and she saw stars, and she felt his skin against hers thought it didn't feel like her own skin for a second - and she felt him remove his fingers to catch he before she fell backwards, but she felt more like she was floating.

Holy – he'd made her come from just using his fingers on her for a mere 30 seconds or so.

Usually it took her minutes to manage that on her own. But usually it was because she was too caught up being stressed to enjoy herself. Or maybe he was just really skilled.

"That – was, hah, ama – amazing Walt." Oh God but she was panting hard, and for a moment she was afraid she'd seemed too eager.

"I am glad you enjoyed it my dear. I must say; you are very responsive".

She opened her eyes at that, her body stiffening – oh God she had been too eager, and she had come and he had thought that was all she wanted.  
 _\- That was amazing_

Did he think she was done? That she had had her fill, and he could go back to bed?

James had often complained that she enjoyed foreplay more than the actual sex. And he wasn't one for oral, both on the giving and receiving side, so she never did get to show him that she could make foreplay good for him too.  
She'd let herself go, and taken too much and -

He kissed the side of her head, nuzzled the shell of her ear with his nose and whispered gently - "I like that about you."

She felt herself relax. Oh – he did? He really did? Wait, so he wasn't done, and he didn't assume - She straightened her back, oh her body felt wonderful but still not yet satisfied.  
"You do? I mean… I know, that is… if you're still up for it, I wouldn't oppose to…"

He chuckled and flashed her a slightly toothy grin – oh that was so on purpose.

He rose and she rose with him, her legs having regained their strength, though still a little wobbly, and she managed to get both her slacks and panties off.  
That was when his hands guided hers to the plush belt that accompanied any robe, had the owner not disposed of it anyway, and she tugged at the binding in the middle.

He was – well, lean. Not overly muscular, but sinewy with a handsome waist and a broad chest. He was hairless, except for a fine line of hair going from his navel to the top of his boxers and – oh – she had not been wrong about his excitement before.  
She was staring, she knew she was, but it had been a long time since James, and before that she hadn't had many lovers she had gotten intimate with.

He coughed a little and she caught his nervous eyes as he looked at her with sincere, honest questioning.

"Is, ah, is everything alright? I can cover up if you want to stop. No need to go any further, and you know I won't be mad." – He offered her a calm and gentle smile. She really did believe that if she decided to turn around and go upstairs he'd go to bed and not hold anything against her.

She palmed him through the fabric of his boxers, and he dropped the robe on the couch, his inquiry long forgotten and his breathing once again a little labored.

"Everything is wonderful" - she meant that to be sexy, but she was tired and somewhat sated.  
Nonetheless he let her guide him back down on the couch, that being said she pushed back against his crotch and he fell, but he did manage to catch that she wanted him to lay down instead of sit up.  
He angled his body, and she scooped herself underneath him as they both lay down, her head hitting the folded duvet and pillow behind her, him on top of her between her legs, his arms on either side of her face.  
The couch wasn't wide per say, but they made it work. The blanket and robe beneath them acted well enough for comfort, and Barbara sighed, as she felt more comfortable than she'd been in a long time.

She hadn't stopped her gentle caressing of him through his boxers, and he had grown significantly firmer throughout the process of them getting comfortable.  
She felt a sudden pride at that – he did want her, and she was feeling good to him.

His eyes closed and this time it was _his_ breathing that hitched. She could see the flash of light behind his eyelids, and it occurred to her that he was trying to control his form.

"Take off your boxers for me honey, I want to see you." She drawled, and this time she did manage to sound sexy.  
She felt another surge of pride go through her as he whimpered, and another as he braced himself on one hand to use the other hand to drag the last barrier of clothing between them down and off his legs.

He was part troll, and she supposed that had something to do with how well endowed he was.  
He wasn't scarily big, and she felt sure of enough to say that he wouldn't hurt her, but he still had a certain girth to him, and Barbara felt her mouth water at it.  
Oh she was definitely eager now.

Even though she had had an orgasm a few minutes ago, she realized she had been getting more wet with every passing of those individual minutes, and she hooked her legs over his hips and dragged him towards her with them.

His eyes snapped open to look at her, and she could see how they'd taken on a yellow tinge.  
He looked nervous.

"Barbara, I must warn you – I'm not sure I can hold this form if we –"


	4. Chapter 4 - Claim My very Being

She eased up towards him as he spoke, closed her eyes, and kissed him gently on the lips.  
He relaxed and after a little while, he kissed her back. She rubbed her thighs against his hips, and he shuddered.

After a few minutes if this, she opened her eyes, drew back a little and smiled up at him, her arms having wound their way around his neck.

"You really won't mind? I know it must feel a little strange to you, knowing that I am not…"  
He looked down and gestured to nothing in particular with his shoulders.  
"This." – he added.

She looked at him, considered the question for a while, and countered it with one of her own;  
"Have you been with other women before? Other trolls?"

He looked at her, such tension in his eyes as he weighed the question.  
"Frolicking between ranks were never looked well upon, besides, I couldn't trust the other trolls as far as I could throw them" – she bet he could throw them pretty far though.  
"And as for humans? No. I assume you can imagine how hard it'd be to explain why my skin would change colors and horns grow from my scalp the second we'd- "

"But you don't have that problem here mister. _I won't mind at all" –_ she cut him off.

And that's when it clicked for Barbara. She really _didn't_ mind. The horns, the tusks, the wings, the green alluring skin, _the collar littered with knifes._ She liked Walter Strickler exactly because of how dangerous he was.  
He was exciting, he was smart, he was loving towards her and he could absolutely slice her to pieces if he wanted to.

 _The sound of chop, chop, chop – the sliced tomato – the shimmer of light against a blade in such control, such finesse – he would never hurt her despite how easy he could._

"Would we need, um, protection? I mean, I got checked years ago and haven't been with anyone but James since, and he didn't have anything…" She dragged on, was this too embarrassing to talk about? It was necessary she decided. No matter how much she wanted this, safety came first.

"I can assure you darling, I carry no diseases of that kind, had it confirmed too once. And before you ask - it was engineered into Changeling biology so that we cannot reproduce. I am as sterile as a petri dish." He remarked, and she could feel the humor behind it – he was trying to ease her mind, though she thought she had also caught a glimpse of something sad in his tone.  
He could never be a father, even though he was very good with kids, or at least teenagers– no wonder he'd taken up a profession as a teacher then.

Something surged through her heart and mingled with something in her stomach.  
She would decide what the first thing was later, but for now the second was definitely lust, so she drew him even closer with her legs, and his erection poked against the inside of her right thigh – she shuddered, but held his gaze, which flickered again – seemingly her answer had registered with him.

He was tentative at first, angling himself right outside of her folds, dragging the tip of him up and down, moisture gathering on the head, and he groaned.

Barbara laid her head back, her arms still around his neck and closed her eyes. It felt so sweet and alluring, and not enough – not enough at all.  
She bucked her hips slightly, and the tip of him slid inside – they gasped in unison.

His shoulders tensed, and she felt him slowly pressing himself further in, filling her inch-by-inch, panting all the while as he concentrated, and then he was finally seated within her.

It had been a long time since she had felt to full, so complete and her inner emptiness sung out in happiness, the vast darkness being lit up by his presence, and she moaned his name as she arched her back, welcoming him.

Walter leaned down and kissed her neck, bringing their bodies flush together, and Barbara tightened her grip around his neck to bring him closer. He drew his hips back and pushed back in.

It was a singsong feeling of joy that rushed through her as he set the pace; slow, even and controlled, and she felt proud of him. He was shaking a bit, with effort she thought, but his skin didn't change to green – though his hair seemed to get coarser in texture with each stroke, and she could feel something poking out at the top of his head.

"Oh God – Walt! Don't stop!"

His pace quickened at her words, and she swore she could feel the telltale prick of fangs on her neck. He was biting her, God he was biting her, and there were tusks mixed in with his tongue, and he _growled._

She snapped her hips up to meet his and he snarled. She followed his example and shifted her head to bite at his ear, and he awarded her with a fierce groan and a particularly hard twist of his hips that sent her head spinning and her mouth agape.

It had seemed to her like he had no experience from what he'd told her, but this was a man that knew what he wanted – oh he certainly did.  
She could feel the pleasure rising within her again, that coil that had sprung earlier was winding up and sitting tight in her stomach – she could hear the panting of her own breath, but it was as though it came through water – ringing and disorientated.

Then she felt him move his right hand behind her right knee, and he shifted their position.  
Her knee was bent up and as he pushed it forwards towards her stomach, and she was on the verge of screaming, her throat felt tight and her lungs as if they would explode.  
She spread her legs to assist him, and he braced himself on his elbow beside her head as he hovered above her, still pushing in and out of her, and she couldn't help herself from moaning and gasping his name wantonly in the end.

This new angle hit all her sweet spots, as he drew deeper inside her.  
 _Harder! Oh Walt! Yes! Faster – AH!_

She heard the words and while she recognized them as her own, once again it felt like she was underwater, gasping for breath and screaming into a void. The pleasure was too much, too stimulating, and she wanted it so much.

She felt his lips against hers, his hand on her right thigh squeezing and massaging her, his cock doing wonders to her body, and she kissed him back, clung to him with her hands in his hair and she found – she found his horns.  
She opened her eyes – had she closed them? – And stared into yellow surrounding red orbs, perfectly sliced through in the middle by his irises.

His skin was a deeper shade of olive than before, but not entirely green, and he was shaking with effort, his mouth a gaping mess of fangs and those sharp tusks.

Then she reached up and grabbed one of his horns, and pulled.

The sound he made wasn't a snarl or a groan, it was more of a roar as his form flickered and danced between what she knew him to be, and what he seemed to be.  
Green to peach and back again, and she felt her orgasm climb; knowing she'd made him lose control.  
She leaned up with as much ease as she could, gasping and moaning as she did so and whispered in his ear;  
"Walt – ooOh fu- let, let go – honey let go!" - And he did.

 _The blade spun and it seemed as though it had become one with the hand that held it, so perfectly at ease while being rotated. It made no effort to spring or jump from its captor, because truly; it couldn't bear to part with him._

His form flickered once, twice, and then she was covered in sleek, stone skin. Green as jade, and it felt hard against her skin, but the feeling was maddening.  
The transformation happened all over, and Barbara felt the difference inside her, and the texture of him – not quite stone, more like smooth leather – made her climax for the second time that night.

She pulled on his horn and his hair and screamed his name, flexing around him and making him shudder in his pace, hips twitching and she heard him shout, no roar, her name again.  
She felt his essence inside her as he came undone by her - her alone had made this happen, and the thought furthered her orgasm a little, making it stretch out a bit longer.

She collapsed back into the now crumbled blanket and robe, her head hitting the pillow and duvet and heaved for breath, the stars behind her eyelids dissipating and she felt herself losing her hearing slowly, the whispering sound of television snow creeping in.

He was holding himself up by the elbows, his right hand having gently guided her leg down in a natural position, and he was breathing heavily too.

"Barbara – " he began, but he couldn't seem to finish as his breath was coming out in uneven little spurts, his back shuddering and instead he simply sunk his head in between the juncture of skin that separated her shoulder from her neck – he smelled amazing she reckoned.

Oh what a night - what a perfect, crazy, defining night this had been.  
Barbara found her hand dragging up to lie on Walter's back, just below his shoulder blades and – oh – his wings were out.

"Sorry" – she heard him mumble into her skin.

She dared to open her eyes – did she keep closing them? – And looked at the frazzled up curtains behind the couch, and the knocked over coffee table on the ground.  
She hadn't even heard them flap.

She started to giggle - Ohmy she had actually made him lose control of his wings!  
She figured he had other forms beside the cape and the wings, but he'd chosen, or well, ended up in his winged one? That was certainly interesting.

"No need to apologize flyboy - though I think your sandwiches are somewhere over by the bookcase." – she added with a snicker.

He lifted his head at the nickname and shot her a distasteful look – oh she was so keeping that nickname.

"Are you okay?" She added to ease his mind, and she was truly being honest. He seemed a bit overwhelmed.  
"I – Yes. I am very much okay." His expression gentled and he looked at her with adoration in his eyes.  
"And you? I mean did you enjoy that?" - A faint flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

She nuzzled his face with her nose and kissed his cheek – "Very, very much so."

He chuckled, and Barbara decided that it was the most wonderful thing she had ever heard.  
She drew languid circles on his back with her fingers, and his wings drew down to cover them both.  
They lay there for a short while, simply taking in the silence around them and noticed that the TV had been on – oh right, she'd been meant to pay attention to that at some point right?

 _Fruitless efforts._

Fruitless indeed, though Barbara concluded that the efforts they had both made tonight were not fruitless at all, and maybe the whole situation called her life was not as bad as it could be.

 _Shfft! The knife found its place in the holder on the kitchen counter, and she couldn't have been happier._


End file.
